


The Advantages of Impracticailty

by Inkwasher (inkstainedwretch)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Christmas fic, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Mass Effect Gift Exchange 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/Inkwasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for ryuosen in the 2014 Mass Effect Gift Exchange. Prompt: "Mordin being his usual self and analyzing human behaviour concerning Christmas."</p><p>Sort of turned into "Mordin analyzes and eventually discovers the true meaning of Christmas", as it got a bit out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Advantages of Impracticailty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryuosen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuosen/gifts).



“Shepard. How can I help?”

There was a pause long enough for Mordin to actually look up from his keyboard. Shepard looked like she was about to say something, but instead was distracted by the synthetic leaves resting behind his desk.

“…uh,” she began, “I’m guessing you know mistletoe is supposed to be hung in a doorway.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Arrived in lab this morning to find cloth and acrylic approximation hanging above door.”

He indicated the door that led from his lab to the CIC. There was still a shiny red ribbon affixed to the ceiling just inside the room. Its edges were frayed, matching the shorn ribbon still attached to the offending plant.

“That’s…interesting. I haven’t seen any of those hanging around.”

“Suspect you will soon enough. Heard brief sigh of disappointment when decoration was removed; did not see anyone else in the room. Anticipate more surprises yet to come.”

“Well, _that’s_ different,” Shepard chuckled. “I didn’t expect Kasumi to start leaving things instead of taking them.”

“Behavior atypical of master thief,” Mordin nodded. “Expect such behavior would not have occurred, had other traditions of human holiday not already been present. Current hypothesis predicts further examples of unusual behavior on part of human crew. Sentimentality, desire to contact friends or relatives not onboard, dramatic increase in decoration of communal areas of ship…” He inhaled deeply. “Distraction.”

“You’ve thought an awful lot about this,” Shepard raised an eyebrow at him.

“Scientist’s job to observe and analyze. Presented with sufficient data to predict outcome. Of course, will take any additional data into account and adjust hypothesis accordingly. Cerberus vessel uniquely suited to such study, with overwhelming majority of crew being human.”

“I see,” Shepard blinked a few times. “I’d better get going. If Kasumi’s hanging mistletoe, I need to know where.”

“Would advise looking near med bay,” Mordin smiled cheerfully and returned to his work. “Suspect she may have exited lab through maintenance tunnel.”

\--

The next day found Mordin waiting for tissue cultures to synthesize when the soft sound of piano music reached him. It sounded faint and muffled, likely transferred to his lab through ventilation ducts. Based on the location of the vent panels, the most likely location for the source of the music was…

Operative Lawson’s office.

Clearly, this warranted further investigation. He left his lab and noted the miniature tree resting beside yeoman Chambers’s computer on his way to the elevator. Once on the deck below, he noted the absence of a red ribbon above Operative Lawson’s doorway, though there was a discolored section of paneling that indicated possible removal with a biotic pull.

He was greeted with obvious surprise, since it wasn’t common for him to leave his lab unless selected for an away mission. Just as predicted, the intercom speakers in the office were playing a gentle piano piece that Mordin recognized as _Silent Night_.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked him warily.

“No need for assistance at present,” he replied. “Simply wished to determine source of music overheard in lab. This location most probable source, however unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Miranda sat back in her chair a bit.

“Did not anticipate your approval of holiday participation aboard ship. Typically very focused on mission and work to be accomplished. Not _displeased_ by your participation. Merely surprised.”

“I see,” a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Shepard was right. Well, if it helps your little study…for a long time, I was taught that Christmas was something other people did. We have enough time for now, and the crew could use some down time. Believe me, none of this would be happening if I didn’t approve.”

“Yes…” Mordin tapped a finger to his mouth in contemplation. This certainly supported his earlier hypothesis regarding sentimentality and distraction, but the effects could be even more extensive than he first realized.

“If it’s distracting you, I can turn it down. Or perhaps reinforce the soundproofing in that part of the ship.”

“Not necessary,” he shook his head. “Now that source of music is known, its presence no longer a distraction. Actually very pretty. Rather fond of the piano. Appreciate the information.”

With that, he gave her a nod and headed back toward the elevator, now humming softly to himself.

\--

The engineering deck, much like the two decks above it, was nearly empty. There had been a tremendous exodus when they had docked on the Citadel, and now the only person Mordin could locate was Tali’Zorah, still at her workstation. She jumped just a bit when she saw him, clearly not expecting him to come down to engineering.

“Mordin,” she nodded. “Is something wrong?”

“Unsure,” he replied. “Majority of crew absent. Nearly entirety of human crew absent. No emergent situation noted. Cannot find adequate explanation for sudden departure.”

“Oh, they must be out shopping,” Tali nodded. “Ken and Gabby both said they wanted to buy gifts while we were on the Citadel, since they have more human-run stores than Illium.”

“Ah-ha!” Mordin nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. Date of human holiday increasingly near. Tradition of gift exchange essential part of celebration. Does not, however, adequately explain absence of non-human crew members. Was unable to locate Grunt in cargo hold.”

“Actually, it’s not just the human crew that’s celebrating,” Tali’s expression was understandably difficult to read. Nevertheless, he could see amusement in her eyes. “I think Garrus and Thane are out shopping, too. I’d be with them if I hadn’t done mine last week.”

Mordin took a moment to consider this. His previous analysis of the holiday had not taken into account the possibility that non-human crew would also participate. Now that the possibility was presented to him, it fit well with his previous observations regarding Christmas on the Normandy.

Given their current situation, it was not improbable that members of the crew would be amenable to celebrating a holiday outside of their culture. Even Operative Lawson had acknowledged the need for “down time”. Participation in holiday customs would present opportunity for much clearer perspective regarding human behavior.

“Very useful information,” he concluded. “Thank you for your time. Will likely be occupied for the remainder of the day.”

“You’re going shopping, too?” Tali laughed softly.

“Unlikely. Laboratory fabricator much more cost-effective.”

\--

With the tissue sample analysis compiling and the fabricator busy printing the models he’d programmed that morning, Mordin made his way to the Port observation deck. A folding screen that looked old and expensive (most likely stolen from Illium) separated Kasumi’s living quarters from the rest of the room, which was now dominated by an impressive replica of an evergreen tree.

Multicolored lights were wired through its branches, interwoven with shimmering tinsel. Standing at the foot of the tree was Grunt. Shepard, balanced on his shoulders, was affixing her Normandy model onto the top of the tree.

“Mordin,” Kelly nodded to him from behind the bar. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise. Wished to check progress of decorations.” He indicated the lights and garland that were strung around the border of the window. They were slightly ostentatious, given the size of the tree standing in front of them, but he suspected that a touch of gaudiness was typical of the Christmas aesthetic.

“They’re progressing just fine,” she replied, taking a sip of a cream-colored beverage. “Now, if I could just find a way to make a dextro version of my egg nog recipe, everything would be perfect.”

“In the meantime, I’m perfectly content to taste-test your failures.” Garrus was seated beside Tali at the bar, a line of empty glasses in front of them. Tali was drinking something almost the same color as Kelly’s drink, a straw slotted neatly into her suit’s induction port.

“It’s awfully sweet,” she smacked her lips a few times.

“Still?” Kelly sighed. “Alright, maybe I don’t need to add any sugar at all…”

Mordin considered these new observations. Cooperation between crewmembers of differing races was already a common occurrence on the Normandy, even now that Cerberus was its sponsor. Shepard’s influence had played a large part in this, as her attitudes had not changed since her days on the SR-1. However, ever since preparation for the upcoming holiday had begun, the crew had begun exhibiting an increase in interspecies socialization. His participation, then, was very beneficial to his study.

Shepard climbed off of Grunt and turned to face him, tilting her head towards the tree behind her. “Well, what do you think?”

“Normandy model an excellent choice for tree topper. Ornaments aesthetically pleasing, but not easily broken. Excellent choice. Slightly surprised the lights on the window do not blink.”

“I can’t stand blinking lights,” Shepard shook her head. “They give me a headache. How do you know so much about Christmas, anyway? I can’t imagine it’s widely observed on Sur’Kesh.”

“First encountered it through study of human music. Old English carols very pleasing to the ear, modern music slightly hit-or-miss. Learned more about the holiday through research into human religion.”

He ended his sentence there, hoping Shepard would catch the meaning. It was true that he had found some comfort in the sacred music of the galaxy, but that particular personal conflict was not something he wished to discuss publically. It was still quite fresh, since their mission on Tuchanka.

“I see,” Shepard nodded. “So then…what’s your favorite Christmas carol?”

“Difficult to say,” he considered the question. “Faster songs much easier to sing to, Carol of the Bells and the like, however always favored slower, more serene melodies. Suppose, if had to choose…have always been partial to _The Twelve Days of Christmas._ Can appreciate a song with structure.”

“No kidding. I’m a fan of that one too, as long as I don’t have to sing it,” Shepard was laughing softly, likely not expecting him to take the question seriously. “Alright Grunt, let’s go put the garland up in the mess hall.”

Grunt gave a hearty laugh and hauled her up so she sat on his hump, and together they ran out of the observation deck. Mordin hoped Gardner hadn’t left anything hot or breakable out in the open.

\--

Mordin examined the boxes crowding his workstation, each wrapped in bright, meticulously folded paper. Thinking of what to give hadn’t been difficult; he was a scientist. He saw needs, crafted solutions to meet them.

Tali’s shotgun kickback necessitated more frequent repair to her suit; solution: kinetic energy dispersal mod. Thane’s presence near the life support plant exposed him to atypically high amount of allergens and pathogens; solution: compact air purifier (which provided additional dehumidifying benefits). Garrus experienced mild difficulty using keyboard controls meant for humans; solution: software modification.

He gathered them all into a crate and headed to port cargo, fairly confident that he had gone about the entire Christmas process in the ideal manner. Now, all that remained was depositing the gifts beneath the tree and joining the rest of the crew the following morning.

Late as it was, the only person in the port observation deck was Kasumi, sitting on the sofa with her knees tucked against her chest. She was facing away from the door, the blue glow of the greybox interface shining beneath her hood.

“I was wondering when you’d come down here,” she said softly. “You’ve had that fabricator going for six days straight.”

Mordin stopped just in front of the tree. Kasumi’s voice was rough and cracked. Even covered by blue light and black shadow, he could see tear tracks glistening on her face. She smiled sadly.

“Keiji and I used to spend every Christmas Eve together,” she explained. “He loved to go out and look at the stars.”

Mordin considered this, then opened his crate and lifted out a small box, wrapped in silver paper with a small black bow. He handed it to her, deciding some gifts were needed before Christmas Day.

“Ocular lenses. Should reduce strain due to high or low light conditions.”

The greybox interface dimmed, and Kasumi’s eyes brightened just a little.

“Thank you,” she whispered, coughing softly. “I put yours under the tree, already. Let me know when you find it.”

“Will be sure to do so,” he nodded, placing the remainder of his gifts beneath the tree. Or, more accurately, a foot or so outside of the tree. There were already quite a few gifts set out.

When he turned to leave, Kasumi had a small mirror in her hand and was sliding the lenses into place. He was almost to the door when she spoke.

“Merry Christmas, Mordin.”

He stopped, just for a moment, and smiled. Even with all of the data he had worked with for the past few days, he believed that he finally understood firsthand the feeling of “Christmas cheer”. It wasn’t difficult to see why humans held this holiday in such high regard.

“Merry Christmas, Kasumi. Will see you tomorrow.”

\--

The next morning, the door to the port observation deck was left open, and it seemed the festivities had already overflowed to the mess hall. The tables and counters were filled with food on color-coded plates to indicate amino acid content. Two trays of yeoman Chambers’s egg nog were set out, some in clear glasses, some in red.

“The red ones are mixed with brandy,” Tali explained as she picked up a glass from the blue tray, “and they are _delicious_.”

Never being one for alcohol, Mordin opted to try the unlaced egg nog. It was disgusting. Tali began giggling at his expression, leaning against the table to steady herself. She did not appear intoxicated, which indicated that his face must have been quite the sight.

“I guess egg nog isn’t your thing, huh? Try the cider.”

The cider was much more pleasant, and he took his glass with him into the observation deck, where he found the floor strewn with wrapping paper and empty boxes. Shepard was perched on the sofa, dressed in a sweater that looked several sizes too big and attempting to untangle the ribbon that was intricately tied around a small yellow box.

“I swear, she does this just to mess with me,” she grumbled. “Can our comm relay reach Hagalaz from here?”

“Even if it could, do you really think Liara would let you give up that easily?” Garrus twirled his new telescopic sight between his fingers.

“Fair enough,” Shepard sighed and set the box down. Looking up, she caught sight of him walking into the room. “Hey, Mordin! You’ve got presents under the tree!”

He approached his gifts carefully and examined the tags attached to each of them. One from Shepard, Miranda, Garrus and Tali had evidently collaborated on theirs, even Grunt had attached a slightly torn label to a box covered in more tape than paper. And those were just the ones he could immediately see.

He was more than slightly surprised. While it was true that he had given gifts to all of his fellow crew members, he had done so for purely practical reasons. There were problems, and he had fixed them.

He hadn’t quite expected quite so many of his gifts to be reciprocated. He was cordial to his teammates, even friendly, but the fact remained that he spent most of his time shut in the lab. Clearly, this warranted further investigation.

Mordin reached for Shepard’s gift and sat down on the sofa to unwrap it. The paper was printed with red and white striped crooks, a sugar confection traditional to the holiday. It was rather charming; he did his best not to tear it.

The box was heavy, resting solidly in his lap, most likely a weapon mod or a piece of lab equipment. If former, most likely obtained at Illium or Citadel. If latter, most likely obtained on the recommendation of ship AI, or possibly through analysis of current productivity. Shepard, though very intelligent, was no scientist.

It was neither. Instead, it was an extremely rare recording of the Pirates of Penzance (original Earth version, all-human cast, circa 1980s). The format was so ancient, he genuinely wondered if there was a human cultural museum somewhere that had been broken into. The weight came from the format-compatible player Shepard had included with it. It was, by far, the most impractical, sentimental gift that he could ever be given.

He loved it.

This required a serious shift in parameters. Perhaps Christmas, in all of its apparent predictability, could not effectively be approached from a purely logical standpoint. Perhaps his own motivations for celebrating were not quite as academic as he thought.

From the other side of the tree, Shepard was poking her head around to see if he’d opened her present.

“So, do you like it? I know it’s the human version, but it’s my personal favorite.”

Mordin nodded. “Very much, Shepard. Thank you.”

The music playing softly over the ship speakers changed, and Shepard’s face lit up in a glowing grin.

“Oh man, this is my favorite carol,” she said softly. “Hey Kelly, do you think we can turn it up a little?”

As Shepard began fiddling with the sound controls behind the bar, to the slight exasperation of yeoman Chambers, Mordin reached down and picked up another gift from under the tree. This one was from Grunt, haphazardly wrapped and even heavier than Shepard’s. It was…a small chunk of concrete.

Now, he was confused.

“From the keystone!” Grunt’s shout startled him quite a bit. The young krogan was standing behind him, watching eagerly to gauge his reaction. “This way you’ll have a trophy from the Rite to keep in your lab full of weird machines.”

For the first time in quite a long while, Mordin was at a brief loss for words. Participation in krogan puberty ritual a necessity at the time. He had been assigned to squad by Shepard, had done his duty (remarkably well, considering his trepidation concerning thresher maws). Still, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had felt a sense of pride when Grunt had claimed his place in clan Urdnot. For all that krogan rituals were barbarous and terrifying, they carried a certain weight.

“Thank you very much, Grunt,” he nodded. “Honored to accept it.”

“Ha ha ha!” Grunt clapped him on the shoulder rather hard. “If I have to have a salarian in my krantt, I couldn’t ask for a better one!”

As Grunt took off for the mess hall, likely lured out by the smell of something sweet emerging from the oven, Mordin’s study of Christmas came to a remarkable conclusion. Christmas was not only a time to appreciate the friends and family one had. Christmas, as it turned out, was also a time to realize just who your family was.


End file.
